You'd Miss Me If I Was Gone
by J.E.McCormickGal
Summary: "In comparison to some other countries, a far larger percent of Scotland's population had been lost in WW2, brave men in the first line of battle, leaving the nation weak, injured – he'd been near death. Perhaps, England thought as he approached his brother's door, this is all my fault, for always sending him in first..." Scotland and England brotherly stuff.


**You'd Miss Me If I Was Gone**

_A/N: As if you guys need more brotherly Scotland and England from me! But there's more! xD_

_Requested Scotland and England brotherly fluff. These two don't often get along, unless they've had a really bad argument beforehand and one of them is trying to patch it up, or in extreme circumstances. I reckon this counts as an extreme circumstance._

_This is based off a request from a friend and the little bits of information given to me: "Compared to population, Scotland lost way more men in World War II than any of the other allies because the Scottish regiments always went into battle first to break the lines. ...It fits in history and the only person that would have been around to really notice the state he was in would be England."_

_So, yup, here we go~~_

~~::.::~~

The Second World War had finally ended. War-exhausted countries tried to pick themselves back up to their feet. Too many men had been lost – it was always too many men, no matter how many or how few – and everyone had been affected.

One of the worst off allies had been Scotland. In comparison to some other countries, a far larger percent of Scotland's population had been lost, brave men in the first line of battle, leaving the nation weak, injured – he'd been near death.

_Perhaps,_ England thought as he approached his brother's door, _this is all my fault, for always sending him in first..._

Carefully, England pushed the door open, balancing medical supplies in one arm as he pulled at the handle.

To see Scotland lying listlessly in bed, breathing laboured and rasping, was not something England ever really expected to see. His older brother was strong and rough and volatile, violent and proud throughout everything and anything. Normally, he'd have started shouting and insulting England by now.

But nothing yet. Quiet, apart from Scotland's breathing and the shuffling as England set down his load.

Scotland cracked open a bright green eye, and tried to glare half-heartedly at England, but it was obvious he was in pain and in no fit state to conjure all of his usual fire.

"What're you makin' such a racket for, brat?"

At least his words were harsh as always, if quiet.

"Because I need to change your bandages and give you some medication, you twat." England replied. Although snappy and insulting like always, his voice was far softer in tone and volume. It was obvious from his subdued reactions and slow, thoughtful movements that England was not his usual stubbornly grumpy self.

Although he wouldn't admit it out loud, England was worried for Scotland. Sure, the two brothers didn't always get along – no, scratch that, they next to never really got along – but Scotland was still England's older brother.

As gently as possible, the blonde nation started tending to Scotland's wounds, occasionally receiving a hissed profanity or a weak hit in response.

"You could be more bloody careful." Scotland growled lowly at him. England shot him a small glare.

"And you could man the hell up, wanker." He spat back. "You drive me insane sometimes, Scotland, you really do, all I try to do is help and-"

"You'd miss me if I was gone." Scotland interrupted, looking up to meet his brother's eyes and letting a small smirk dance on his lips. England tried not to flinch at the shock of emotion that went through his chest.

"You keep telling yourself that, git..." he managed eventually, refusing to look over at the older nation. He went to turn away from the bedside, but Scotland caught his wrist and tugged him back weakly.

"Oi." He called softly, demanding England's attention. The blonde looked back at Scotland. His eyes were still bright, and his lips still twisted into a smirk, though not filled with as much arrogance as was sometimes present. "You can't get rid of me that easily, little brother. I'm not planning on going anywhere – after all, how would I remind you that you're a miserable sod if I wasn't here?"

England managed a small smile.

"You're insufferable."

"So you constantly tell me."

"Because it's true." England shook his head. "Now come on, take your pain medication and rest so I can finally get away from you already."

"If it makes you leave sooner, then gladly." Scotland grinned back.

"You're a tosser."

Eventually the fiery red-headed nation was once again settled, his eyes closed and breathing steadying. England turned to walk from the room and, with a last look back to assure himself Scotland would be fine, he closed the door. Sighing, he rubbed his hand over his eyes, thinking back to what Scotland had said.

**You'd miss me if I was gone.**

_Of course I'd miss you, twat..._

_**You're my brother.**_

~~::.::~~

_A/N: Yayy British-brothers :D_

_These two love each other really. They just won't admit it._

_Also these turned into a 'see how many overly-British insults I can throw in here' challenge xD_

_I think I managed five._

_Well, hope you guys liked this. Yup. I'll go now. Ciao-ciao._


End file.
